


Dot, Dot, Dot...

by MistressYin



Series: Just A Word [8]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Breathing Excerises, F/M, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 20:23:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16562552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressYin/pseuds/MistressYin
Summary: He drove too fast down a one way road, some would say. You’re supposed to enjoy the sights as you go by, make a couple stops.But Steve had never been able to accomplish this, due to the fact he was being chased by his demons and had a flat tire to boot.





	Dot, Dot, Dot...

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo! 8th day done and done! Updating's hard...
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Steve Harrington was a lot of things. He was the king of Hawkins high. The son of the Harrington’s. go to babysitter for Mrs. Byers. Honorary brother of Jane Hopper. The abused kid. He was athletic. He was good with words. He was good with girls. He got into a lot of fights. He was bully. He was a teachers nightmare. He was a lot of titles, a lot of traits, a lot of stereotypes. 

However, he was not someone who paused. 

He didn’t need that extra breath others needed after running a long time. He did it, then he went in the house and did other things. He didn’t need that moment of peace where everything was still, he didn’t need time to think, and he especially didn’t need to wait something out just because it was too fast or someone else ‘needed’ time. 

Steve hated long trips to museums, he hated sight-seeing, and he despised long waits or doing nothing at all. 

So when Nancy told him she was upset that they were acting like the demogorgan never happened, he honestly couldn’t understand. They went through it, they lived it, it’s over. 

Now they needed to move on. 

Like everything else with her it seemed, that had been wrong and objective, apparently he was living in a fake world. Fake? No, he was going to escape that nightmare until this ‘fake’ world, became the reality. 

That was it. No stopping, no complaining, just moving forward. Time is of the essence, after all. 

When Hargrove knocked him down and he woke up in the back of a car Maxine was driving of all people, he couldn’t stop. He didn’t have that luxury. So he went with it, accepted it, and kept going. 

When the demodogs ran past him and Dustin he hadnt stopped then either. He accepted it, because there was no take backs. 

You’d think this kind of thought process would give him no patience, or that he would have to be incredibly ambitious because of constantly going toward the future, but Steve was not impatient or ambitious. 

This kind of thought process is the kind you have to live with in his house. It was adaptability. You couldn’t cling to hard to things. Who knows, one day his mother could be home and the next she could be in France or some shit. 

Next came being found bleeding on the floor of his kitchen. A fucked up situation, but not exactly a unique one. He dealt with it, moved on, and now he tried to be happy in this new circumstance. 

It was hard, though, when all everyone around you was telling you to do was stop. Think ahead. Pause and take deep breaths. 

It sucked. 

Because Steve didn’t want to pause, because pausing made his heart rate go up a mile and his mind gave became clear and he could feel the harsh wind and the smell of his old carpet came to mind—

Pausing was not something Steve did. Mostly because it could never be. He drove too fast down a one way road, some would say. You’re supposed to enjoy the sights as you go by, make a couple stops. 

And now, headache in place and a major dilemma on his hands, all he wanted to do was never look back. It’s not what his rag tag group wanted him to do of course. 

Will was staring at him because they were the only ones in the room, looking at him with all the wisdom of his D&D narrator (It’s not called that!) wizard (he’s just old!). 

“You look anxious. Something the matter?”

Steve rubbed his head, noticing only now the way his foot was bouncing up and down. 

“Yea, it just...everything seems kind of slow right now, don’t you think?” he asked. Will grinned. 

“I like it. My life’s always been pretty fast. It finally feels like I’m living.” Will paused, glancing at him. “But you don’t feel that way, do you?”

Steve shrugged. “I think my life’s been so slow all my life I had to force it to move, never once stopping because if I did I wouldn’t be able to start up again.” (Because his car driving down the one way road was being chased with a flat tire), “But now...everything is new. And everyone just wants me to live in the moment. Honestly? I’ve never really had a moment to live in.”

Will titled his head. “Jane,” he was the only other one of the group that called Eleven Jane, having met her by the same name, “—Said that you guys were sharing stories. She said it was helping. I have a real therapist now, and I like talking to her. She said that if I ever feel like everything is happening to fast, then just stop for a minute. Take a deep breath, exhale slowly. Close your eyes and pause what’s going to around you. It helps,”

After a moment, “You want to try it with me?”

Steve shifted on the couch, titling his head. “Y-yea, uh, I don’t know. Thinking just makes me want to think about it.”

Will shrugged. “Then think about it. Don’t run from the bad thoughts, fight them.”

Steve froze, then ever so slowly, let himself nod. 

Will told him to close his eyes. Steve did so. 

“Now, breath calmly, as if you have nothing to worry about doing later.”

Steve’s breath instantly went to the pattern Maxine had showed him over the walkie talkie. 

“Ok, now try to picture it. The bad thought’s, picture the worst ones out there—and don’t open your eyes.”

Steve tightly snapped his eyelids back up, desperately wanting them back open. 

The image of his father shifted in front of him. 

“Now make out the silhouette, the colors, the smells. Picture the room your in, and the way it feels. Picture if your relaxed or your stiff and sore.”

Steve wasn’t relaxed, he was stiff and sore and not only in his mind. His father’s breath dusted past his ear as he shaped his office clearly in his head. 

“Now remind yourself you’re not there. That you never will be there again. That your safe and bad things can still happen, but those memories can’t touch you. Picture the room burning. Burn the room. Burn the pictures and items in the room. Now everything’s black. Nothings there and nothing will be there when you open our eyes.”

Steve couldn’t. His fathers face was there and so was his office. Slowly he imagined the flames, the way they’d crackle. The burning and the spilt of alcohol all over the floor making them flare brightly. He imagined the ash, falling down along the room. He could practically hear his father’s shouts fade. His ears throbbed at the phantom sounds. 

Blackness was the only thing left in his head. 

Steve shuddered. 

“Relax your muscles, let it wash over you. Relax your jaw.”

Steve followed suit to his instructions, rolling his neck. 

“Now open your eyes.”

Will beamed brightly at him, “How do you feel?”

“...” Steve took a moment to catch his breath. 

“...slowed down.”

Will beamed. They sat in silence after that, comfortable and quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Will the wise!
> 
> Thanks again from MistressYin!


End file.
